Dysfunctional
by JotunFrostPrincess
Summary: Alternate Universe. Loki is married, living on Earth, and is a lawyer. He comes home to a livid wife. Power struggle. Strong language. Loki/OC.


Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. That's the way the saying goes, right?

He slid the key into the door, turned it, and felt it click open. He walked in the door and before he had closed the door behind him, it had begun.

She slapped him fiercely across his face. She was yelling. If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

"You did it, didn't you do it? You motherfucker, you did it. Didn't you, you lying, conniving, tricky, sonofabitch?!"

She went to slap him again, this time with much more force. He caught her wrist in mid air and held it in-between their bodies, looking intensely into her eyes. His voice was velvety and soft.

"Tell me what this is about, my dear."

"You rat bastard!" She replied while smacking him with her other hand. Might not have had as much force behind it as her dominant hand would have had, but it did the trick.

He held an expressionless face. Not angry. Not amused. Not giving any thoughts away. He set his briefcase on the tile floor next to him while maintaining perfect eye contact. He felt if he looked away she was likely to start a full-blown attack. She was livid.

As he slowly, cautiously, stood back up, she lunged forward and shoved him against the door and smacked him even harder.

"You are a real fucker, you know that right? You are a shit who only cares about himself."

He dodged a hand flying through the air towards him.

"Now, that's not fair. You don't believe that. Not in your heart."

"The HELL I don't!" She screamed and smacked him again.

"If I were to be honest," he blinked and cocked his head to the side as if thinking carefully about his choice of words and continued, "I'm not crazy about this behavior."

"Fuck you, asshole!" She said, slapping him again.

She walked towards the living room and against his better judgement, he followed her.

"My dear!" He called after her, "please tell me what this is in regards to so we can move this along."

When he reached the living room a vase hit him and then the wall, shattering all over the hardwood floor.

He sighed heavily, "now was THAT really necessary?"

She responded in what could only be considered angry noises, no intelligible words were spoken. He sat down calmly in his favorite leather chair that happened to be directly in front of her.

"Talk to me, my darling."

She grabbed a ceramic figure off the mantle and chucked it at him. He dodged it.

He slid his hand down his tie as if to lay it flat and sighed, "so this is how it's going to be?"

She looked back at him without speaking a word. Her eyes were filled with hatred and rage. She spat in his direction. He slowly, calmly stood from the chair.

"My dear. My darling. My love. This is really how we're going to do this?" He looked at her with an overpowering sense of self-assuredness that could only be described as cocky.

She ran towards him and slapped him the hardest yet. He immediately grabbed her throat with one hand and quickly walked her backwards against the nearest wall. He pushed her violently against the wall by her throat and she struggled to breathe. She tried to push him away pawing against his shoulders with all her strength. He pinned her wrists against the wall above her head using his free hand.

Her body writhed against the wall and he very briefly loosened his grip on her throat allowing her to breathe. She took a quick gasp of air and he closed down her air pathways again. His eyes were steely and his voice turned draconian.

"Tell me you thought you could win this game against me," he spoke each word carefully and slowly, accenting each individual word.

He let her quickly breathe again. A tear rolled down her cheek.

He smiled and tittered, "You see, my dear, I don't answer to you. You answer to me. Whatever it is you think I have done to wrong you, well, I simply did not. You are not in any place to feel any sense of proprietorship over me."

He let her breathe again and continued, "now, I'm going to let go and you're going to stop this foolishness and behave."

She immediately lunged at him screaming. He grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her to the bedroom, throwing her onto the floor.

She fell to her knees and looked up at him.

"Pathetic," he commented with sheer disgust in his voice, "you are pathetic, worthless, and astonishingly inadequate. Stand up."

She stayed on her knees looking up at him while crossing her arms.

He pulled her to her feet by her hair while she shrieked.

She slapped him once she reached her feet, "fuck you!"

Smiling grimly, he replied, "fuck you!"

She shoved him, "fuck you, you cocksucker."

He slapped her hard across her face, "fuck you, whore."

He slapped her again, "say something, you disappointing excuse of a wench."

She was silent, save for a few gasps. He slapped her hardest yet and backhandedly. Blood pooled at the corner of her mouth. She dabbed at it with the back of her knuckles.

He yanked her air, "say something, you filthy slut!"

He pushed her away, "you don't even deserve my time."

"Fuck you!" She screamed.

"Fuck you, you bitch!" He yelled back.

"Fuck you." She said a bit softer.

"Fuck you," he replied with a hint of challenge in his tone.

She slipped her hands inside his suit jacket and grabbed his waist, pulling him against her, "fuck you," she whispered sensuously amongst labored breaths.

He pulled her hair forcing her to look up at him, "fuck you." He replied seductively.

"Fu-," she began.

He slid his fingers through her hair, held her head, and kissed her deeply. She slid his jacket off his shoulders and started to unbuckle his belt. All the while, he pulled her shirt out from out of her skirt and began unbuttoning it. She moaned into his mouth and he thought better and ripped the shirt open, sending buttons flying in all directions.

She gasped and her eyes were filled with lust. He bit her neck roughly while sliding his hands around her hips. He grabbed her ass and she moaned. He unzipped her skirt, unbuckled her belt, gave it a little downwards push, and it immediately fell to the floor.

He spun her around. One hand traveled down her torso until sliding it in between her legs. He gently stroked the fabric, feeling how wet she was for him. He pulled her hair back with his other hand, forcing her head back against his.

He whispered, "is this what you were looking for, you filthy, little whore?"

She bit her bottom lip and moaned confirmation.

He grabbed the end of his belt that she had unbuckled already and yanked it from its loops. He pushed her forward so she was bent over their bed. He spanked her with his belt.

After dozens upon dozens of strikes, he pulled her up by her hair. He wrapped his arm around her waist and forced her into him.

"Now, will you ever presume to act out like that again?" He asked into her ear.

She lightly giggled and shrugged, "maybe."

He slid his hand in between her legs again, the fabric was wetter than the first time.

His voice held joyous amusement and he pulled her into him more tightly, whispering, "you really are such a whore, you know that, right?"

She giggle moaned.

He slid her panties down and then sat on the side of the bed. He pulled her onto his lap so that she was bent over him, but his leg was in between her legs. He spread her legs open slightly, ensuring that every strike he made would force her sensitive nub to rub against his leg. Her head was behind him. He held her down by pressing his weight into her back and his other hand spanked her bare bottom. He would slap her a few times and then rub the stinging, soothing it away. This continued for quite awhile.

Suddenly, he grabbed her hips and laid her on her back on the bed. He got on top of her, straddling her waist while pinning her arms above her head.

She moaned in response. "Please," she begged in a whisper.

His mouth slowly curled into a smile, "please what, my dear?"

"Take me. Please."

He leaned into her and kissed down her neck and in between her breasts. He flicked his tongue against both her nipples. He looked up at her, "is that what you want?"

"Yes, God, yes," she moaned in between struggling to catch her breath.

"Is that what you NEED?" He whispered seductively.

"Yes, I need you right now. Please. God. Please. Now."

He loosened the tie around his neck and tied her wrists roughly together. The fabric of the tie dug into her wrists, forming a white ring against her skin. He tied the other end of the tie to their bed. He walked over to the closet and grabbed three more of his ties, tying her legs spread open to the base of the bed. He yanked at all three ties checking their knots, they were perfectly tight. The last tie was used to blindfold her.

He got back on top of her and kissed every inch of her body. He ran his hands across her abdomen and caressed her breasts. He slid his hand along her inner thighs and down her legs past her knees. He briefly tickled the bottoms of her feet.

He kissed her passionately, sliding his tongue deep into her mouth. She kissed him back with such desperation, such need. She moaned in response. Kissing her even more deeply, he slid his hand in between her legs, letting his hand glide right against her overwhelming ache. She whimpered and he let out a quiet laugh.

"Clearly," he whispered, "you jumped into waters that were much too deep for you tonight."

He licked playfully behind her ear, "I will teach you to think twice about challenging me."

His hand briefly slid across the ache in between her legs again and then his hands traveled across her torso. He played with her nipples in between his fingertips. She moaned.

She begged him to take her.

He chuckled under his breath, "in time."

He slid off of her and left the room.

After an hour passed, he returned.

She felt his presence as soon as he walked in. She begged him again.

He quickly tore off the rest of his clothes, climbed on top of her, removed the blindfold, and gave her what she wanted.

Sweat beaded on both of their bodies as they lay breathless. He pulled her into him and nuzzled his head into her neck. She moaned.

He whispered, "now, tell me, love. What the hell was that?"

She rolled over on her other side and looked deeply into her eyes, "are you sleeping with your Secretary?"

"Of course not!" He honestly replied.

She smiled and laid her head against his chest.

"Why would you think that?" He asked.

"Several reasons, actually."

"Well, don't. I would never. You can trust me. I love you."

"Trust a trickster. What have I gotten myself into?"

He tittered, "you love it. You love me."

"I do." She sighed, "I'm an idiot."

He whispered, "I love you too, ya know? And I married a woman who likes to attack me without telling me why. Who's the idiot now?"

"Ok," she laughed, "we're both dysfunctional idiots. Clearly."

"Clearly, indeed."


End file.
